


You Can Always Go Home

by gray_autumn_sky



Series: Set in S7 [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, trigger warning: car accident, trigger warning: death of a minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: Season 7 Canon Divergent AU: Regina prepares for Henry to come home to Storybrooke with his daughter Lucy after the death of his wife, Elena.





	You Can Always Go Home

Regina stands at the center of Henry’s empty bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest and tears in her eyes. When Henry moved away, it was never supposed to be permanent–he way only a few hours away at Boston University, he’d come home for holidays and breaks and, of course, the summer and the four years of college would fly by. When he’d gone away, he always said he’d be back–he said that Storybrooke was his home and he could never imagine being away from his family, especially after fighting so hard to bring them all together.

But then, like with any plan, life chose a different path.

In the first few months of college, he met a girl called Elena. He’d brought her home that Thanksgiving and it’d been more than apparent to everyone, Elena was  _the_ girl for Henry. She and Robin had exchanged knowing glances as Henry pulled out her chair at dinner and Hannah giggled as she watched their fingers entwine as Henry gave Elena a tour of the house. By Christmas things between them were serious, and one night when he was home for break, as Regina poured two cups of hot cocoa, Henry confessed to her that he was in love with Elena, and though they were young and hadn’t know each other for that long, he wanted to marry her. Again, that was no surprise–and that summer, there’d been a wedding.

The morning of Henry’s wedding, Regina had stood here–in this same spot in Henry’s room–suddenly very aware that her son had spent his last night in his childhood bedroom. Regardless of whether or not he returned to Storybrooke, he wouldn’t be returning to this his house or this room. He was all grown up, building a family and a life of his own, and she’d been so, so proud of the man her little boy had grown up to be–and that made it easy to push aside any sadness she felt.

But today, Henry was returning home.

And, for his sake, she wished that he wasn’t.

Closing her eyes, she takes a breath, remembering the years he spent in this room. People always told her that Henry’s childhood would be over before she blinked her eyes–and in the day-to-day thick of it, she hadn’t really believed it. After all, for most of Henry’s childhood, she was a single, working mother and she’d done it all on her own. She weathered through colic and tantrums, she changed every diaper and she tempered every fever. She’d stayed up with him when he was sick, abandoning any notion of sleep for herself, and she’d stayed up with him, finishing school projects that he’d neglected to tell her about until the last minute. In the earliest years, she’d gone to bed and awoken the next morning exhausted–and then, almost suddenly, Henry was no longer a baby, and he was no longer a little boy. And she found herself looking back with great nostalgia, wishing that she could do it all again and she could revisit the days when a hug from her could solve all of his problems…

_“But, why, mama?” Henry asks, his eyes wide as he looks into his room. “Why?”_

_Taking a breath, she kneels down in front of him, taking his little hands in hers. “Because, you’ve gotten too big for a crib.”_

_“But why?”_

_Her brow furrows a bit as a grin pulls onto her lips, not entirely sure how to answer his question. “Well, you’re a big boy now,” she tells him, watching as he looks skeptically into his room at the twin sized bed with protective rails on the sides. “And you should have a big boy bed.”_

_Henry took a breath, still very unsure as he eyed the bed and though he seemed so scared of it, she couldn’t help but smile. He was wearing her favorite pair of pajamas–a blue footed pair with orange and white little whales all over them. His hair was probably too long and curled up a bit at his ears, but she loved to stroke her fingers through it–and Henry liked it too. Whenever she did it, he nuzzle closer and look up at her with hooded eyes, looking so sweet and secure–and loved that make him feel that way._

_She hoped she always would._

_“Come on,” she says, giving his hand a soft tug. “Let’s try it out.”_

_“I dunno,” he murmurs uneasily as he follows her into the room._

_Grinning, she lifts him up onto the bed and crouches down in front of him. Her hand smooths over the blue, patch-work quilt that’d been in his crib–and after watching her for a moment, he starts to do the same, rubbing his little hand over the blanket. “See,” she says. “It’s the same blanket you had before.” A hesitant grin starts to pull at the corner of his mouth as she rises to her feet and rounds the bed, sitting down on the edge opposite Henry. “And look at this,” she says, reaching for a little night light that sits on the new bedside table. “Watch what happens when I turn it on.”_

_Turning his head, curiously, Henry watches as she flicks a switch at the base of the lamp, and then a sharp gasp escapes him as his grow wide as they move from the little lamp to his walls, watching as glowing stars dance along the wall. “Wow…”_

_“You like it?” Henry just nods as eyes move with one of the stars, watching as it circles the room. “If you sleep in here tonight, in your new bed, we can leave it on.”_

_“Oh,” Henry murmurs as his eyes shift to her._

_“You’ll have Teddy,” she says, nodding to his favorite stuffed bear–a bear she’d bought at the airport in Boston, only days after adopting him, a bear that had been his best friend ever since. “He’s still here, just like before.”_

_“Yeah…” He says in a small voice as he tooks to Teddy._

_“And…”_

_“You sleep, too?”_

_“You want me to sleep here, too?” She asks, watching as his head bobs back and forth. “In your new bed?”_

_“It’s big,” Henry says, his eyes widening and practically pleading. “Please, mama?” Letting out a breath, she nods–and as soon as she does, a smile stretches across his lips and he scrambles to get underneath the covers. He scoots to the edge, then pats the space beside himself–and she grins, thinking of the countless early mornings, he climbed out of his crib to join her bed, and she peel back the covers, patting the bed as he toddled toward it. “Come, mama.”_

_With a sigh, she stands up, and for a moment, he looks hurt, watching as she walks to the lightswitch on the wall. Pushing it down, she grins at Henry, quickly making her way back to the bed and slipping in beside him. Before she can even pull the covers up over them, Henry cuddles close to her and sighs contently. “I like my new bed, mama,” he tells her as he tilts his head to look at the stars dancing across his walls._

A tear starying down her cheek brings her back into the present moment. Though she couldn’t be sure, he’d likely have crossed the state border by now and there were things to do–but for the life her, she couldn’t seem to move out of Henry’s room. Downstairs, she could hear Robin talking to Hannah and Roland, asking about Lucy’s new room and if everything’s ready for her, asking about the boxes and whether or not they should unpack for her, to make her room feel more like home. Hannah makes a comment that she doesn’t quite make out, and then she hears footsteps on the stairs.

The boxes had started to arrive the week before–and each time one arrive, it was like a new cut, slicing into her heart. Roland usually was the one the sign for it–not saying anything, only carrying them up stairs and tucking them away into one of the spare bedrooms.

The saddest boxes, though, were the ones that were marked Lucia–Henry and Elena’s seven-year-old daughter. She’d didn’t remember their tiny Boston apartment, and to her, Storybrooke was a place she visited for holidays. Lucy, as she liked to be called, was in the second grade. She liked her teacher and she had a close group of friends; she played soccer and took ballet. Her boxes were filled with her artwork and her stuffed animals, dolls and framed pictures of her and her friends–remnants of a life she was being forced to leave behind.

After graduation, Elena had gotten a job in Seattle, and she, Henry and Lucy had moved across the country. She can still remember the way the tears had stung in her eyes on the day they moved. She, Robin, Roland and Hannah, all drove down to say their goodbyes–and there was something so difficult in accepting that Henry wouldn’t be an hours-long car ride away anymore, that he’d be clear across the country and out of arm’s reach. But she’d put on a smile and held back her tears, kissing his cheek and holding him close as she wished them safe travels.

For awhile, life seemed to be going well, and she was grateful that he allowed her to be a part of it. He called regularly and Lucy liked to write letters, and in those letters, she always included a few snapshots. Sometimes they were just selfies–her just before a dance recital, all done by up make-up and a costume–and other times, they were posed pictures of her and Henry. She included pictures of her school work and scenic shots she took from the bus window on the way to school, and each and every one, Regina treasured because it allowed her to feel like she was a regular part of her granddaughter’s life, and by extension, a regular part of her son’s life.

Then, one night a couple of months before, Henry called. It was later than usual–well after midnight in Storybrooke–and from the moment she picked up, she knew that something was wrong. She never heard Henry’s voice as it was that night–so soft and broken, so lost–and he told her that Elena had died. It’d been a particularly rainy day and the car in front of her had stopped abruptly; she rear-ended it, and the car behind her rear-ended hers. He told her the police said she didn’t suffer, she died instantly. Her neck had snapped from the impact and they’d assured him it had been relatively painless. He’d scoffed as he repeated it, asking her if how that was supposed to be comforting. She hadn’t quite known what to tell him, and the next morning, she’d been on plane headed to Seattle. When she got there, Henry was still at the hospital, sitting alone in a waiting room, his shoulders slumped forward his head hanging down. She’d called his name a handful of times before he finally looked up at her, shaking his head as he asked her a series of impossible to answer questions–and heart broke as his teary, hazel eyes met hers and he asked her how he was supposed to explain any of this to Lucy when he didn’t understand himself.

_Regina stands in the hall, watching as Henry pulls books from his shelf–pulling away old favorites like Good Night Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, and stacking them at his side with a pile of once-loved Dr. Seuss books. She feels a knot form in her stomach, tightening as he adds The Very Hungry Caterpillar to the pile, remembering his kindergarten days when Henry deemed it required nightly reading._

_She can easily remember him climbing into her lap with the book in one hand and a folded piece of construction paper in the other. He’d gingerly handed her the book and then looked up at her with a telling grin–looking at her the way he always when she excited to share something…_

_“Did you have a good day at school?” She asked, pretending not to notice._

_“I did.”_

_“What did you do?”_

_“We had art class,” he told her, very matter-of-factly, as his finger rub on construction paper. “We got to paint!”_

_“That sounds fun.”_

_“Uh huh,” he agreed, nodding. “I painted a picture.”_

_She couldn’t help but grin as her eyes fall to the paper in his hand. “Did you?”_

_“Wanna see it?”_

_“Of course I do,” she’d told him, watching as he carefully unfolded the paper and slowly turned it toward her to reveal a caterpillar painted in shades of green with a red face, just like the cover of his favorite book. She grins as she takes it from him, studying it intently as if she’d been given an original Monet. “This is amazing, Henry,” she breathed out, her eyes momentarily shifting from the painting to him just in time to watch a proud little smile tug up at the corners of his mouth. “It’s perfect.”_

_“I wanted to write The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but…” He sighed. “I didn’t have marker. And I didn’t know how to spell caterpillar. Or hungry.” His brow furrows a bit as he looks up at her. “Or very…”_

_“Those are all tough words.”_

_“Mmhmm…”_

_“Do you… want to write it now?” She asked. “I’m pretty certain I have a black marker in my desk. I could help you spell them.”_

_Henry’s eyes widened as he nodded. “Will you write it?”_

_“I can,” she agreed. “But don’t you want to?”_

_“No,” he grinned. “I want you to do it.”_

_“Alright,” she said, scooping him up as she stood. “Let’s go find that marker… and maybe tomorrow, we can go and buy a frame for it.” Again, his face brightened at the thought. “We can put in your room, above the bookshelf if…”_

_“No,” Henry cut in. “Its for you.”_

_They reached her home office, and she sat him down in her chair as she rummaged through the desk drawer until she finally found the marker. In big letters in the right corner, she wrote The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but instead of giving Eric Carle the by line, she wrote “by Henry Daniel Mills”–a detail that made him beam with pride._

_Clearing her throat, she steps into the room, eyeing the pile of books at Henry’s feet. “What are you doing?”_

_“Oh, nothing,” he murmurs, not looking up as he packs he reaches into the tote bag they’d taken to Storybrooke’s annual tag sale and pulling out a stack of Goosebumps books–books he liked to read on his own, without her. “Just making room for my new books.”_

_She hadn’t been able to reply to that, she’d only been able to tell him that dinner was almost ready and not to forget to wash his hands, as she reminded herself that this was a natural part of his growing up, and no reason to be upset–and as she made her way back downstairs, the framed picture of The Very Hungry Caterpillar caught her eye and the knot in her stomach tightened and she couldn’t push away the feeling that her little boy was starting to slip away and soon wouldn’t need her._

Regina turns sharply at the sound of a light knock at the frame of the door, and she finds Robin lingering there with soft, sad eyes–looking at her the same way they’d been looking at one another since returning from Elena’s funeral two weeks before.

That day had been such a sad day, and they’d all struggled with what they should say and do, knowing that nothing could make it better for either Henry or Lucy. Lucy had been inconsolable that day, tearing up whenever anyone spoke to her and making sure to keep Henry within her reach. And the whole time, Regina’s eyes stayed fixed on her son, watching as he tried to stay strong for his daughter and watching as he struggled not to break down. After the service, they’d all gone back to Henry’s apartment and once Lucy had finally fallen asleep and it was just him, Regina and Robin, Henry confessed he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to just go back to his daily life–to his job and routines, how he was supposed to be a single parent in city where everywhere he turned, he was reminded of Elena and everything he and his daughter had lost.

Robin had nodded knowingly, confessing he’d felt the same when Marian died–lost and alone, not sure of how he was supposed to muster the courage to get out of bed morning after morning, let alone parent their child. And when Henry asked how he did it–how he found that courage–Robin’s answer had been simple: he relied on his family. Regina held her breath as Robin continued on, suggesting that perhaps, a move back to Storybrooke would be good for him and Lucy. Regina was quick to echo the sentiments, reminding him that he had a family that loved him and would love to help, in any way that he needed.

She’d been surprised, though, when Henry nodded and said that he’d consider it–she hadn’t thought that he would.

A week later, it seemed that fate was intervening when an editing position opened up at the  _Storybrooke Mirror_ , and only days after that, Henry’s apartment was sold.

“Roland and Hannah moved Lucy’s boxes into her room,” Robin tells her. “They made her bed up, and Hannah unpacked one of the boxes and put some of her things out, so that it… it looks a bit more like her room when she gets here.”

She sighs and tries to smile. “That was thoughtful…”

“Roland’s downstairs now, making M&M brownies because… they’re Lucy’s favorite.”

“And because he needs something to do.”

“Yeah,” Robin says with a sigh as he pushes into the room. “And I’ve… run out of things to do.” He shifts toward her and takes her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “How are you holding up?”

At that, she laughs a little–she shouldn’t be the one he’s concerned about now, but when she looks at him, she can’t help but let her emotions get the best of her. The tears that had been brimming spill down her cheeks as she takes a step toward him, letting her head fall to his shoulder. “I wish there was something I could do for him, for Lucy… but…”

“You  _are_ doing something, Regina.”

“I wish I could just… undo it. I wish there was some magical fix, that I could somehow make this better for him.” She sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “I wish there was something I could have done to protect him from…  _this_.”

“He’ll get through it,” Robin says gently. “It won’t be easy–you and I both know that better than most–but it will get better, with time.”

At that, she scoffs. “Let’s just hope he handles it better than I did.”

A little grin tugs up at the corner of Robin’s mouth and he shakes her head. “Well, Henry has something that you didn’t have. He has a family to love and support him. I know that moving back here isn’t ideal, but it’s the best place for them right now. He has Emma and Killian just a couple of hours away, and his grandparents practically down the street, and two siblings that would love to help out with Lucy, and…” His voice trails off as reached out and tips he her chin up. “And he has  _you_.”

For a moment, her eyes meet his and tries to smile. “It’s just… so unfair,” she breathes out, letting her eyes close momentarily. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

“I know,” he murmurs in reply. “I know, love.”

Lifting her head, she bats the back of her hand over her eyes and looks back to him. “It funny, you know, I’ve spent years wishing and hoping that he’d come back to Storybrooke, and now…”

“You’ve missed him, Regina. We all have.”

She nods. “The last time I talked to him, before the accident, I told him there might be an opening coming up at the  _Mirror_ and tried to convince him to apply, just to see what would happen…”

“Regina, you didn’t do this.”

“I know,” she sighs as she breath catches at the back of her throat and tears once again fill her eyes as she thinks of the lifeless tone in Henry voice when told her he’d gotten the job at the  _Mirror_.  “It’s just… I never wanted it to be like this and I feel guilty for having wanted any of it.”

Robin nods and pulls her back to him, holding her against him and letting her cry…

_She’d been dreading this day since the acceptance letter from Boston University came in the mail, and for weeks, she’d been in denial that the day was coming._

_They’d been gradually moving all summer, buying new things for his dorm room and packing up the things he’d be taking from home, and sending them to Emma’s where they’d be kept until the time came for him move into his dorm room. Somehow, in the middle of all of the planning and shopping and shipping, Henry convinced her to allow him to drive to Boston himself–and as he reached for the keys that morning, Regina found herself cursing David for giving him a motorcycle for as gift for his high school graduation._

_“You’re sure you want to do this?” She asks as they step out onto the porch. “Because, I’d be more than happy to drive you to Emma’s.”_

_“It’s in Boston.”_

_“I know that. It’s… only a few hours away. I could be back by dinner.”_

_“You wouldn’t be back by dinner because you wouldn’t leave.”_

_“So, I could stay a few days… help you and Emma and…”_

_“Mom,” Henry cuts in. “We’ve talked about this.”_

_“I know, but… I could take some time off, and I could help you move in… take you to dinner and…”_

_“That’s not going to make saying goodbye any easier, you know.”_

_Her jaw tightens. “Well, who said anything about saying goodbye?”_

_Shaking his head, he sighs. “Mom, as much as I love you, I think my roommate would be weirded out if my mother moved in and slept on our futon.”_

_“Okay,” she murmurs with a nod. “I suppose that’s… a valid point.”_

_“Besides, this town doesn’t have a very good track record when it comes to handling things on its own.  If you leave for even a few days, you’d probably come back to find that Bigfoot was terrorizing Storybrooke or it’d be under seige of Flying Monkeys or locust or…” He laughs. “Something no one’s ever heard of.”_

_Her eyes narrow. “Why do we live here?”_

_“Because it’s home,” he answers simply as the reach the driveway. “It’ll always be home.”_

_“Yeah,” she agrees with a nod as her breath catches in her chest. “It will always be your home, Henry.” A smile stretches onto her lips and she nods, letting out another breath and pushing her tears away, willing herself not to cry in front of him. “You’ll call me tonight, and let me know how that you got to Emma’s safely?.”_

_“Of course…”_

_Swallowing hard, she nods and holds out his helmet. “Promise you won’t take this off.”_

_A sly grin pulls onto his lips. “Not even when I take a shower,” he teases._

_With a sigh, her eyes roll as she steps forward and pulls him into a tight hug. She holds onto him for longer than she should and he lets her. His arms tighten around her and when his hands clutch at the back of her shirt, her tears seep out from the sides of her eyes as she thinks of little boy he used to be, the little boy who always wanted her near. Finally, it’s her who pushes back, brushing her fingers over her cheeks and rubbing away the tear tracks before he can see them as she, again, forces herself to smile._

_“So, I guess… this is it,” Henry says as he takes a step back toward the bike. “I guess this is goodbye… for now.”_

_“For now,” she repeats, taking comfort in the thought that Henry will be back for holidays and breaks, that he intends to build his life here. “I’ll miss you,” she says as he gets into the bike and turns the key in the ignition. “And…”_

_“I love you, too, Mom,” he tells her, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “See you soon,” he tells her as the engine rumbles–and before he’s even down the end of the driveway, the ache in her heart is indescribable._

They’re both still in Henry’s room when Hannah knocks at the door frame, shifting awkwardly on her feet as she looks between them and tells them that Henry and Lucy just pulled into the driveway. Regina lets out a short breath as Hannah turns away from them, leaving them to compose themselves. Regina blinks away her tears and takes a long breath, putting on the mask she’ll have to wear from this point on. Wrapping her hand around Robin’s fingers she leads them both out of the room and down the hall; and when they reach the bottom of the stairs, she can feel warm air coming in from the open front door.

Roland and Hannah are standing on the porch and in the car, she can can see Henry talking to Lucy. Her heart aches as she watches them, and she can only imagine what Henry is saying to the little girl whose life has been completely turned upside down. Lucy get outs of the car first, quickly opening up the back door to grab her a princess-themed duffle bag–something that Regina vaguely remembers was a birthday gift from Snow the year before. She rounds the car as Henry gets out, hoisting a khaki and leather satchel onto his arm as he reaches for her hand. Though, it’s subtle, she notices the way he holds his daughter’s hand–not too tightly to be uncomfortable, but too tightly for her to squirm away, as though he’s trying to hold on to the only thing that remains from the life he’d just left behind.

“Aunt Peanut!” Lucy calls as they approach the porch, and she breaks free from Henry’s hold and runs into the aunt that’s not much older, hugging herself to her legs as she grins and looks up. “Uncle Roland!”

Roland laughs a little as he stoops to pick her up, holding her against his chest as his eyes momentarily shift to his sister. “I know you just got here,” he begins, “But we  _cannot_ wait to show you your new room.”

Lucy’s eyes widen a little as she looks between them. “I have my  _own_ room?”

“Of course you do,” Hannah says. “We just set up your bed.”

“I hope you like unicorns,” Roland tells her, his eyes meeting Henry’s as he steps up onto the porch, a subtle acknowledgement that the bedset he ordered arrived in time. “Come on, let’s go check it out.”

Hannah and Roland head back into the house, stopping momentarily so that Robin and Regina can offer Lucy a quick, welcoming kiss on the cheek before joining Henry on the porch. Regina watches as he looks up at the house–the house he’d grown up in, the house that had once been his home–and he draws in a long breath, slowly releasing it as he looks back to them.

“How was the drive?” Robin asks as Henry looks to him.

“Oh, you know,” Henry sighs. “There’s nothing that beats seventy-eight hours on the road with a seven-year old.” He tries to joke, but it doesn’t come out the way he wanted to–instead slightly sarcastic, he just sounds sad. So, with another sigh, he tries again. “We didn’t hit much traffic or construction, and Lucy got to see some sights along the way. I think it was… a nice distraction for her.”

“That’s good…”

Henry nods. “She’s happy to be here now, though.”

“And how are you?” Regina asks, reaching out and rubbing her hand over his arm. “How are you holding up?”

“Just tired, really,” he tells her. “I haven’t been sleeping much and… well… seventy-eight hours is a long time to be traveling.”

Robin nods. “Are there more bags in the car?”

“Yeah, just a couple,” Henry says. “I can get them when…”

“Nonsense,” Robin cuts in, already stepping down the steps. “I’ll grab them and take them in through the back. You and Lucy can sort through them whenever you’re ready.”

Regina grins a little as Henry nods, looking from Robin to her as he heads toward Henry’s car. “So, how are you,  _really_?”

For a moment, Henry doesn’t respond. Instead, he just stares blankly at her as if he doesn’t know how to answer her question–and she realizes that he actually doesn’t. There aren’t words for what he’s feeling now, because aren’t words to describe what you feel when your entire world falls apart, and there aren’t words to describe that seemingly permanent sharp ache at your core, that settles within you. Any attempt to describe it just falls short. “I’m… I’m glad to be home,” he says after a while in a voice that’s barely audible, his eyes brimming with tears as he looks to her, looking so much like the little boy who ran to her when he scraped his knees or fell off his bike.

She feels a rush of emotion–her chest aching with the understanding that she couldn’t fix this with a hug and a couple of fluttering kisses, that this was something completely out of her control. Yet, she feels herself stepping in anyway, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close to her, and when his head falls to her shoulder, she feels warm tears spill down her cheeks and she wishes more than anything that her love could be enough.


End file.
